Shattered World
by RichaK05698
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts has changed lives dramatically. This explores George Weasley's angst, trauma, pain, friendship, love, and finally comfort in its aftermath.
1. Prologue

Jets of green light were ricocheting off the wall behind him, perilously close, but it was all George could do to duck and stagger as the Death Eater drew closer and closer.

_What's happening to me,_ he thought franticly, trying to tighten his feeble grasp on his wand. His legs were buckling ... he felt they were going numb. Something was missing; something had been ripped off from his very heart. _What?_ He tried to push his greatest fears to the back of his mind ... the man in the hood was chuckling ... now he gave a menacing laugh... George's wand fell from his hand.

'_Avada Ked—_'

'_STUPEFY!'_

George rolled over.

The Death Eater collapsed in a heap where George had been seconds ago.

It was over; someone had saved him. He looked around to see who, but all he saw was a blinding haze of bright light. Shielding his eyes with his arms, he staggered up and stood panting against the wall, trying to collect his thought.

But in vain; he couldn't think straight. His heart was fluttering; his hands were shaking as he groped for his wand. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He didn't want to think about it, but then he had to know what had happened.

His sweaty palms found his wand. He stood no more; he broke into a run. Tears were streaming down his cheeks ... he didn't yet know why ... becoming one with the blood and sweat on his face that were cruel proof of what was going on. His head was spinning; his already blurry vision was further being clouded by his tears.

He ran past the silent bodies of all those who had fallen; a part of him just wanted to lie down amidst them. But he knew what he had to do to set his fears at rest. He had to find his family, he had to make sure everything was okay; he had to find his brother ... his twin ... his partner in crime.

On George ran, through the destruction that was being wrecked upon his school, temporarily heedless of the chaos around him ... he was thinking now only of one person. His worst fears filled his mind, but he ignored them. He ran on. His breathing grew more laboured, his steps fumbled more.

_There! _He saw his father. In the Great Hall. But where were the others?

He opened his mouth, but no sound came ... not then, at least.

He stood motionless. Bodies were beginning to be brought in. _Colin ... REMUS! ... TONKS!_ He was aghast. He saw his mother come running towards his father from the other end of the Hall in a few minutes. He started walking towards them. He needed to be reassured, to be comforted.

Two others too were moving towards them ... and they were carrying a body. They reached Molly and Arthur at the same time George did, but all three pairs of eyes were on the boy who was now being laid down.

George recognised his twin, and as Molly collapsed into Arthur's arms, his legs finally gave away ... he fell down to the cold, hard earth beside Fred ... _his brother ... his twin ... his partner in crime. _A scream of anguish left his thirsty, parched lips. As he hit the ground, immune to all the noise around him, with a deafening, cold silence in his mind ... in his heart ... in his soul, he realised what was wrong; what was missing. A part of him had been taken away by this bloody, barbaric, brutal war. A part of him had been taken away...never to be returned.


	2. Chapter 1

'Have you seen George?'

'No, Mrs Weasley, I haven't ... I haven't seen him since yesterday,' Hermione replied as she, Ron and Harry were coming down into the Hall again from Dumbledore's office. The other two too shook their heads. All of them were worried.

They walked into the Great Hall as Mrs Weasley left.

'Where d'you think he is?' Harry murmured anxiously.

Ron sat down at one of the tables. Hermione sank down beside him.

'Ron,' she whispered tenderly. He looked at her. His vacant eyes were now filling with tears. Tears that were pouring out the words he could not bring himself to say. He rested his head on her shoulder.

Harry looked on in silence. The aftermath of victory was incredibly, unimaginably painful. The price that had been paid was astronomical. After a few seconds, he averted his eyes. As he turned his face, he saw Ginny running towards him ... something reminded him of that time, a year ago, right after they'd won the cup ... she collapsed against him, with a quiet sigh. He held her, and raised her face gently with his finger to face his. Her eyes were red and puffy, and sunken.

'Let's go out,' he murmured.

They walked out of the bright, sunlight-flooded doorway.

They walked in silence for some time ... quite some time. There were no words to express what all of them were feeling, were going to fell for so many days to come. Indeed, it seemed for forever. And anyway, no words were required.

_I owe her an explanation, _he told himself. He _wanted_ to talk to her, to tell her everything about those dreary, difficult days and nights over the past year. Later, he wanted to talk of the days to come. Their days, together. But was this the time? He himself, in a way, was not sure he was up to it.

She seemed to be able to read his thoughts. She wanted to know too. Anything, _anything_, to take away, at least temporarily, all those heart-wrenching memories. There was going to be enough grieving later on. Of that she was sure.

'Tell me. Everything.'

'Let's go and sit by the lake; we'll be alone'

But there was already someone at the lake.

'_George!_,' Harry and Ginny called out together, but he seemed not to hear. They went and sat down beside him.

Ginny placed her hand on his shoulder, and he responded to her touch. He turned to face her. His face was haggard and drawn, his eyes were bloodshot and miserable. The light which their victory had put in them for the tiniest spell was gone.

After what was clearly a great emotional struggle, Ginny spoke. 'Harry was going to tell me about _everything_. A whole year's worth. Got to be interesting. Go on, Harry.'

'Ginny, is this the time?' Harry whispered anxiously.

She gave a slight grimace, and then sighed reluctantly before whispering back.

'It can do no harm. And at least it'll take his mind off things for some time. That's what we need. Go

on.'

At midnight, Harry heard George sneak out of the common room, where they had been sleeping on the couches. He put on the Invisibility Cloak and followed.

They reached the Forbidden Forest, and George broke into a run. Harry hesitated for a couple of minutes, and followed.

But he had lost George. He searched for quite a time before he found him on the ground, kneeling near a thicket of bushes. Before he could do anything, however, he heard a sound. He drew his wand instinctively. George was off his guard.

Suddenly a figure emerged beside him. Percy Weasley was shocked to see his brother there. Harry was shocked too, at the tears running down Percy's face.

Percy walked over to George and placed a hand on his shoulder. George started. He turned around.

There were tears on his face too. Percy opened his mouth to speak, but George was already shouting. Every emotion he had suppressed inside himself, all the rage he had bottled up, burst out in a flood of indignant, flaming passion. His face was livid with anger; his features were contorted with rage. No one had ever seen George Weasley like that before.  
'It's _your_ fault he's dead! You - You - come back after so long. And just after he'd forgiven you! You bloody idiot! Go back! BACK! Become Minister for Magic, I don't care! And what are you doing here? _Spying_ - '

'_George! George! Please listen –_ '  
' No! _No!_ You don't understand, do you? It's all your ruddy fault! YOURS! Mum cried for ages and you didn't give a damn, did you? Then now, _why_?'  
But Percy had sunk to the ground, shaking.

Harry watched in horror.  
After what seemed like several years, Percy spoke. His voice was surprisingly tender.  
'I know George, _I know_... I know how you feel. I _feel_ like you feel. He was my brother too, George. I wish I had died in his place, really.'  
It took ages for George to answer. But when he did, his voice was calm. He was almost back to normal.  
'What are you doing here?'  
' I - I came to look for the ... you know - the...'  
'Resurrection Stone?'  
'Yeah ... how'd you know? ... you too?'  
'Yeah, Harry said he dropped it here, didn't he? It must be somewhere here...'  
George sat down beside his brother. All anger turned to grief; hatred to understanding. The two boys, now made men by their sorrow, wept.  
Harry turned to walk away. Tears were now drenching his face too. He longed to take off the Cloak, and site down there beside them. A part of him wanted a shoulder for support too. But he knew he mustn't. He knew, too, that he would never speak of what he alone knew he had seen.  
The moment was too sacred.

Fifteen minutes later, George slipped back into the common room. Somehow, the ordeal had strengthened him. His world was shattered, shattered into shards, he knew, and bitterly so, but now, he felt he had the strength to slowly pick back all the pieces and rebuild it again.


End file.
